


Of Crossbows and Biscuits and the Rocky Horror Picture Show

by LokiOfSassgaard



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-29
Updated: 2011-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:17:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6319813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiOfSassgaard/pseuds/LokiOfSassgaard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is one way to get Sherlock to snap out of his moods. John is not a fan of Mrs Hudson’s methods, however.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Crossbows and Biscuits and the Rocky Horror Picture Show

John had known since about half ten that morning that his day would not be easy, but the moment Sherlock picked up the crossbow and primed it, John gave up.

“No,” he said. “Fine. Whatever. Do what you want.”

He slapped shut his laptop and quickly rose to his feet, eager to get out of the flat.

“Burn the whole bloody place down, if you want. I’ll find somewhere else to live.”

Sherlock just snorted at him and fired the crossbow, sending the bolt straight through John’s coat just as his fingers touched the fabric to pull it free from the hook. John’s hand jerked backwards and he clenched his teeth, willing himself to just quietly get out of the flat before the argument went nuclear.

After a few moments, he was able to convince himself to do just that, slamming the door heavily behind him.

 

It was amazing how few things he could actually find to do in London. Most of what he was able to find involved an amount of money he couldn’t actually afford to spend, or was only interesting for a very short while. Eventually, he took to just wandering the streets until his meandering path eventually led him back home.

At least it was quiet, in one piece, and not on fire.

Counting this as the potential victory it was, John let himself in and made his way upstairs, pausing slightly at what sounded to be Sherlock giggling at something. Fantastic. There was probably a dead body in the flat, if he was giggling like that. Hopefully, it wasn’t dead because Sherlock had made it be that way.

John pushed these thoughts from his head and finished the climb to the first floor, cautiously pushing open the door to the sitting room.

“John!” Sherlock shouted from where he sat upside down on the sofa. “Don’t move!”

John stopped cold and looked round the flat for the thing that was about to kill him.

At least the dead body, if it did actually exist, wasn’t in the sitting room.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

Sherlock seemed to consider this as he worried his head back and forth. “No. No, I don’t think so. You’re probably fine. Maybe.”

Well. An uncertain Sherlock was definitely something to consider.

“Are you all right?” asked John.

“Fantastic. Why do you ask?” Sherlock answered.

John, still not sure what might be going on, stayed firmly in the doorway. “How long have you been upside down? You’re surprisingly heavy, and I nearly broke my back trying to get you settled the last time you passed out.”

Sherlock glanced at his watch, realising too late that he wasn’t wearing it. Rather than answering John, he reached for a biscuit from a plate on the table.

“Can I come in?” John asked.

“Why are you standing in the door?” Sherlock asked.

John momentarily considered speculating what might be happening, but gave up after the first fifty possibilities came to mind. Shaking his head, he walked into the flat and pulled Sherlock upright, surprised at how easily the man had cooperated with him. Considering this a day of many victories, John sat down.

“What are these?” he asked, pointing at the plate of biscuits.

“They’re biscuits,” Sherlock said, but without his usual amount of venom that laced his voice when he was forced to point out the obvious.

“Yes, but where did they come from?” asked John as he picked one up.

“Mrs Hudson. She was…” Sherlock looked round suddenly. “Where’d she go?”

John looked wide-eyed at Sherlock, realisation dawning on him suddenly, and he tossed the biscuit back down to the plate.

“Right,” he said. “I should go find Mrs Hudson.”

“Why, where’d she go?” asked Sherlock.

John got to his feet, grabbing the plate of biscuits as an afterthought. “You… stay here,” he said. “Don’t move.”

He was surprised to see Sherlock’s posture stiffen almost immediately, apparently taking John’s instruction literally.

Well. Good.

John left Sherlock on the sofa, making a quick detour to the kitchen to toss the biscuits before making his way back downstairs. If whatever Mrs Hudson had baked into the biscuits could completely shut down Sherlock’s brain so efficiently, John shuddered to think about what he might find their landlady doing.

The involvement of the Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack had not been high on his list of possibilities at all.


End file.
